The Caged Dragon
by AuroreMartell
Summary: Rhaenne Targaryen is a ward of the Lannisters, caged for her father's crimes. In her cage, she must deal with Cersei's anger, her betrothal to Theon Greyjoy, psychic connection to her sister Daenerys, and her feelings for the little prisoner Sansa Stark.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Okay, so I wrote this story at like three in the morning and just want to upload it for some reason. It might turn into more than a oneshot if I get good reviews... (Yes, that's a thinly veiled plea to review. Or check out my other stories. Please?)

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She has heard few stories of other wards. She knows the Stark family has one, yet Rhaenne Targaryen has heard no stories of other Targaryen wards. She is still trying to convince the stupid fruit vendor that this is so.

"I told you," Rhaenne sighs, "there is naught a trace of dragon blood in King's Landing, save my own."

"Impossible!" he cries. "The prophecy foretells of a three - headed dragon, you are aware -"

"Yes, yes, but i assure you, no other dragon is left, and I am a ward of the Queen!" Rhaenna puts her head in her hands. Day after day she must endure the talk of the smallfolk, who still wish her father were king, and who push her to usurp the throne from the Usurper. "And I have no army, as you clearly see, so it would quite foolish of me to attempt to take the Iron Throne."

She is a very tall girl, with the silver - blonde hair of her family, and the distinct lavender eyes. She stands regal and erect in the dresses she is given by the Queen Regent. All these details make several of the simple - minded smallfolk take her to be the rightful queen. Which she is, in their minds.

There are times when Rhaenne feels as though she one day will indeed do something with her dragon blood. She is not certain of what, but she can feel it in her heart: she will lay waste to the Lannisters, rip up their family, drive their House to extinction like they did hers. She is just unsure of how, or when.

"Rhaenne," murmurs one of the Kingsguard, "it is past time to return to the Red Keep. Have you made your purchases?"

"Yes, ser," Rhaenne responds, rolling her velvety purple eyes just so at the vendor. She despises the hovering Kingsguard, never allowing a ward a minute of peace. "Two pomegranates, then, and let us speak no more of this folly. I am no queen, and let us leave it at that, shall we?"

She swipes the fruit from the babbling vendor and makes her way through the marketplace. The smallfolk stare at her, with her milky - pale skin and her shining hair that tumbles to her waist. She does not like the smell of King's Landing, but she hahe lived here her entire life.

The Lannisters had found her when Robert Baratheon took the Throne, a tiny, defiant girl of only three. Though the Usurper wished to kill her, one of his men, Ned Stark, persuaded him to let Rhaenne live as a ward.

As a ward, Rhaenne is kept well. She has a small yet nice chamber in the Red Keep, where she can see the ocean, let out to roam the gardens when she pleases, and is fed nicely. Yet she is as caged as any ward would be, a dragon held by lions.

She returns to the Red Keep with the Kingsguard, where Tommen and Myrcella greet her with verve. Rhaenne does love the little princeling and his sister. Despite being seven and one herself, she feel similar to a mother when around them.

"'Yennie," flutes Tommen in his childish voice, "did you buy me a pomegranate? Please, please?"

Rhaenne kisses them both atop their curly blonde heads and laughs at the pet name Tommen has given her since birth. "Why of course," she responds softly, and breaks the skin to draw out a handful of crimson seeds. He crushes them in his pudgy hand.

"Look," he giggles, the juice flowing over his fingers and splattering onto the marble floor, "it's red, like Lannister and Targaryen red!"

Rhaenne allows him a small titter, but looks on with a queer feeling of sadness. _These children are the only pure things left in this world,_ she thinks. But Rhaenne smiles and offers Myrcella some of the bright red fruit. "And for you, my princess of Dorne," says Rhaenne in a deep voice, "red for the Martell family, aye?"

Myrcella nibbles on the pomegranate. "Trystane sent me another letter today," she admits with a blush and her shy smile.

"Did he? Tell me all."

"'Dear Princess Myrcella," she starts, and the little princess launches into recanting each word of the letter while Rhaenne listens with quiet affection. They talk and eat fruit for some time until the Queen Regent sweeps in the room, a small ginger girl trailing behind them.

Rhaenne rises, pulling back her silver hair back. "Your Grace," she demurs. Tommen's mouth is stained with the pomegranate juice, and Myrcella giggles. The Queen begins to berate them, and Rhaenne lets her words wash over her, unhearing. As the Queen shifts impatiently, Rhaenne can see a glimpse of the ginger girl.

_Sansa, _she thinks. Rhaenne sends the girl a small smile and says, "Hello, Lady Stark. You look lovely today in that pretty dress."

"Thank you, Lady... Targaryen," Sansa attempts. She is relatively new here, and it is clear that Sansa isn't quite sure how to address the intimidating Targaryen girl. Rhaenne feels pity for the poor child. Pity and and a strange kinship, for they both were stolen and punished for the crimes of their fathers, fathers who the Lannister men had killed. The only difference is that Rhanne was taken when she was three years old, much younger than Sansa.

She owes her life to Sansa's father. Rhaenne can scarce believe that Eddard Stark was a traitor.

Rhaenne lets her thoughts drift off to her own sweet siblings. She has heard many troubling things of her younger sister Daenerys, who was only a bump in her mother's tummy when Rhaenne was stolen. She has been wedded to a Dothraki horse lord, it has been said. She has raised a khalasar. She has murdered her own brother. This makes Rhaenne feel horrified and sick. Rhaenne remembers only a trace of her brother, age five and one when she was taken, or so she can remember. But she has also heard that her little sister has obtained dragon eggs. This news is hope.

The Queen Regent is now leading the children away from Rhaenne, the only trace of them left is a sticky spot of pomegranate juice on the floor. She runs her fingers over the remaining seeds in her hands and thinks, Targaryen red, my prince. For no matter how oppressed the dragon may be, it will always defeat the lion.

Night falls over the city, and Rhaenne retires to her chamber. She lies in bed for several minutes, gazing out the window and musing quietly. She wants to be a dragon, she has the blood in her, but how?

Suddenly, the stars flash in her eyes. Rhaenne bolts up straight in her bed, and images swell before her eyes.

There is a girl of no more that fourteen, her lilac eyes bright in the night, fire blazing around her and climbing up her silver hair, consuming her whole. Yet the girl is miraculously unburt as she reaches out for three stones on a pyre before her.

Rhaenne's heart feels like it is twisting madly in her chest, the images blooming in her eyes. There is a flash of light, the ground shudders, and the sky opens up, pouring white - hot light into Rhanne's eyes. She covers her eyes with her hands, but the images keep coming. The girl is in the flames, eyes wild, and suddenly all the images shatter before her eyes.

She sits there is shock, until a new sensation wells up in her chest, like one of the gods has blown a gust of cool air into her heart. Rhaenne blinks, and a new image unfolds in the darkness.

Her sister Daenerys is kneeling on the desert ground, her hair crisped off and her naked body covered in ash, but she is alive. Three reptilian creatures dance around her body, suckling on her breasts, and Rhanne gasps.

She flies to her window, staring out into the night. It may be her imagination, but the air feels hot on her skin and the stars burn with an inhuman heat. A single, blood - red comet streaks through the sky. Rhaenne feels a smile spread across her face, and she sucks in a breath of pure joy.

_The dragons have been reborn_.


	2. Chapter 2

Rhaenne has one hand resting on Myrcella's golden head, the other holding Tommen's hand. They are somewhere in the marketplace of King's Landing on what Rhaenne calls an "adventure," attempting to find a reasonably sane vendor to sell them fruit and - "what was it you said you wanted to find, Lady Stark?"

Sansa visibly jumps. She is hanging behind Rhaenne and the children, preferring to drift behind King Joffrey's favorite dog, Sandor Clegane. "Lemon cakes," Sansa whispers, her voice scarcely audible against the backdrop of the loud, bustling King's Landing. "If it isn't too much trouble, my lady."

"Oh, my little flower," Rhaenne says with a slight smile, "No need for the sugared words. I'm your ward, less of a lady than your king brother. We'll find your lemon cakes." She glowers around the marketplace. "That is, if we can locate a good vendor with half the brains of one of the court fools."

Tommen skips along the dirty streets, swinging Rhaenne's hand cheerfully and babbling away to Sansa about some kittens he had seen in the streets. He has no idea of what she is going through, thinks Rhaenne, and feels the all too familiar squeeze of sadness in her tummy. She is not sure who she pities most - Tommen, or Sansa, or even herself.

" - and I think they were all brothers!" finishes Tommen with verve. He sighs, contented, until he wrinkles up his pudgy nose and turns to Rhaenne. "I'd love a kitten. Oh, 'Yenne, why was that funny man talking to you about a dragon?"

Rhaenne tries to catch the eye of the Hound, who raises a single burnt eyebrow sardonically and looks away. Since Rhaenne turned two and one, she had been trying to befriend the Hound, a trial she knows is as easy to toss a rope around the neck of a wild boar.

"The dragon is the sigil of my House, princeling," she finally murmurs to Tommen, hoping to evade any more queries. "Maybe he likes dragons."

Myrcella cocks her head. "He called you a queen, like my mother," she observes.

"Indeed he did, my princess of Dorne. There are many silly people in this world, are there not?"

Sansa skims along the streets as Tommen trots off to the cake vendor. _This is the way she walks, talks, lives,_ Rhaenne muses, _like she is half a ghost herself. _Rhaenne has tried and tried to converse with Sansa, like two friends, but it has so far been to no avail. '

She remembers when Sansa Stark first came to King's Landing, her blue eyes bright with joy. The poor girl had been so in love with the King Joffrey her eyes were blinded from the poisonous snakes that lurked in every corner of the Red Keep, her brain so clouded with the beautiful jewels of the architecture that she never noticed the veils that people guarded their lying eyes with.

_When the time comes, the children with be the only ones I will spare. They do not deserve the vengeance of the dragon._

"Well, now," declares Rhaenne loudly as Tommen returns to them, "five lovely lemon cakes. My Hound, won't you take a lemon cake? Our sweet prince bought you one special, he did."

The Hound simply glares at her. "My job is not to eat pastries," he snaps, "it is to protect the royal family... and their ward."

Rhaenne tilts her head at him. "Aye. Of course," she mumbles to herself. _Just a stone egg, that's all I am. Not a royal, not a Targaryen, not a dragon. One day I will come to all the disbelievers and... and._..

She shakes her silver - blonde head. Rhaenne has to stop herself, near daily, from plotting against the royal family like so. It is a dangerous game they play here in our Kingdom's capital, the game of thrones, and all those who dare to enter the game must watch not only what they say but what they think.

Rhaenne gazes up into the sky, nibbling on the corner of her cake. She cannot see the comet from here, and she wonders what her sister is doing. In fact, she wonders where. And how. And why. Well, she can understand why. They both are the blood of the dragon. It seems only fitting, a duty the Targaryens must do for their sigils.

In her vision last night, Daenerys had been so beautiful, even hairless and smothered in ash. Rhaenne is proud of her younger sister for growing up, so strong and fierce and wise. _She is a true dragon, and I am not. I can scarce dare to puff out a wisp of smoke, while she will burn her enemies down_.

Ever since the image, when she had seen the dragons, Rhaenne has felt queerly inside. Not sickly, like when Joffrey had eaten too much of the eel pie and had to retire to his chamber pot for the rest of his night. No, now she feels a mixed feeling of fear and hope.

Rhaenne keeps her violet eyes on the sky. _Oh, Daenerys,_ she thinks. _I hope the strength I have lost will fly to you on the wings of the dragons you have hatched_.

Maybe it is because she was thinking of her, but Rhaenne's vision suddenly tunnels, and she is standing on the hot, baked ground of a desert. Men and women with skin the color of caramel circle her as the sun beats down upon her back. Rhaenne is speaking words in another tongue to the people around her as dragons, tiny beautiful dragons, suckle at her breasts, and the people gaze at her reverently. She is unaware of the how the words are spoken for her, as if she is possessed by another person - _another dragon_. _My sister._

"Lady Targaryen? Lady Targaryen?"

Sansa is kneeling before her, shaking Rhaenne's trembling shoulders. She has slumped to the ground in the midst of her strange experience, and now her head is nearly in Sansa's lap. "Are you feeling poorly? Is the sun... have you fallen ill?"

"Oh do forgive me, Lady Stark," sputters Rhaenne. "I meant you no embarrassment. My brave prince Tommen, do help a fair maiden to her feet."

Tommen pulls her up, and she deposits a chaste kiss on his head. "Thank you. You will be a lovely husband."

They walk back to the Red Keep, the Hound stalking behind them protectively. At some point on the long walk back, Sansa touches Rhaenne's hand and looks into her bright eyes with her own sorrowful blue ones. "My lady, are you quite certain you feel well?"

Rhaenne remembers the sensation of dragon wings fluttering against her skin, the touch of new lives in her heart. "My lady," says Rhaenne, her lavender eyes flickering up to the bright blue sky, "I have never felt better in my life."

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**A/N**: Thanks so much for reading, especially you beautiful reviewers! It's just amazing to receive positive feedback on my first chapter.

All other readers, please don't hesitate to tell me when I make a mistake... I'm not too certain on the whole age thing. Kisses and hugs!


	3. Chapter 3

Queen Cersei takes a delicate, ladylike bite out of her lamprey pie and quite a _less_ladylike swig out of her wineglass. "So, do tell how your little 'adventure' went today," she says to Myrcella. "Did you buy something for Trystane?"

"A little glass lion." Myrcella beams. She is, as always, perfectly composed, with her long gold braid glossy and impeccable and her manners even more perfect. "And I drew him a pretty picture of a sun - and - spear, like his sigil. Tommen helped me."

"How creative! I'm sure he'll adore it."

Rhaenne does not, by all means, _like_the Queen, but she appreciates the woman. She was worried that when Eddard Stark was killed, Cersei would see no reason to keep her around, and kill her too. But Rhaenne had remained in the Red Keep. She has heard around town that Cersei had been promised to Rhaegar, the eldest Targaryen brother. Perhaps Queen Cersei does not mind the spitting image of her beloved in her castle.

The dwarf lord Tyrion suddenly pushes open the double doors that lead into their dining room, making his grand entrance as usual. "Lovely family! So nice to see us all behaving ourselves at dinner. Would this be attributed to the strange absence of my sweet nephew Joffrey?"

"He is in the garden, training with Ser Ilyn," Cersei says in a hard voice.

Tyrion sweeps into the hall with his familiar waddle, dropping kisses on Tommen and Myrcella's heads like Rhaenne has done so many times. "Lady Stark, i hope this day finds you well." He gives her a gentle smile, but Sansa adverts her eyes all the same. "But Rhaenne, you look quite pale. How fair you?"

"All Targaryens are pale, my lord," says Rhaenne with a grin. Tyrion is another tolerable Lannister, and she enjoys his wit and company when she decides to get drunk. It is truly the eldest brother and the father I must watch out for. "I am sure I have not drunk enough wine. Luckily there is no shortage here."

"Ah, I knew I could make a Lannister out of you yet."

"Uncle Tyrion," pipes up Tommen, "we went for an adventure today and we ate lemon cakes and bought oranges and 'Cella and I painted a pretty sun picture and I rescued 'Yenne and she said I was going to be a good husband, isn't that so?"

"You will be the best," Rhaenne says with a wink. She hopes no one will pursue the topic of "rescuing," lest she must confess her strange vision. "I tripped and fell over, and my brave prince came to my rescue."

Tommen smiles happily at his plate, then glances at his mother. "Mama, why do I have to wait so long to marry? 'Cella gets her pretty dark prince who sends her fruit and letters and I want someone who will give me fruit too!" He pouts. "Why can't I just marry 'Yenne now?"

Tyrion snorts into his goblet of wine. "Aren't you a smart man? Making your wedding arrangements at the age of eight. I believe it will avoid those annoying wedding trifles, eh, Cersei?"

Rhaenne presses her lips tight to keep from laughing. Sansa smiles for once, quickly smothering her smile with her small hand. Of course the Queen does not look amused. "Oh, sweetling," giggles Rhaenne, "if we had children, they would be part lion and part dragon, and how frightening would that be? What a horrid creature." She widens her violet eyes, wiggling her slender fingers at him. "Mayhaps it would breathe fire and set its own fur aflame!"

Tommen shakes his head. "If Myrcella bears children, they'll be half lion, half sun. That would be more frightful, I think. And when Sansa gives Joffrey heirs, they'll have wolf blood in them."

Just like that, the joy disappears from Sansa's eyes, and she squeezes her hands together. Rhaenne watches her, wishing she could offer the girl a word of comfort, but what could she say? Rhaenne is but a caged dragon, whose mouth is bound and her movements examined closely, just as poor Sansa is.

_I hope the day will come,_ she thinks, _when I can stop thinking on her as "poor" Sansa_.

Tyrion is no fool. He is clearly smart enough to tell when Sansa is upset, and with a gentle slap on the table, he says, "Well, this talk of sun lions and dragon lions has been sufficiently amusing, yet I have little time to spend here." He swigs down a substantial amount of wine. "Sweet Myrcella, have you drawn the comet for Prince Trystane yet?"

She cocks her head. "The comet?" Myrcella says eagerly.

_The comet_. Rhaenne's mouth goes dry. It is further proof that her sister will grow to be a conqueror. It makes her heart buzz and a smile work its way up her lips.

Tommen scurries to the window and gasps. "Oh!" His chubby cheeks press against the glass.

"It is a beautiful sight," demurs Myrcella, who has excused herself like a true princess. "Mother, I think I shall write of this to Trystane."

"You do that," says Cersei, who has been working her way through the jug of wine. "What a good wife you shall be."

"Mama, why do we have comets? Why is the comet here now?"

Tyrion laughs to himself. "The smallfolk say many foolish things of it, Tommen. Some say it stands for Lannister red, that we'll win this war."

"But that could mean anything!" cries Tommen earnestly. "It could mean the Targaryens, or the Martells will win!"

"They're not fighting, sweet prince," Sansa says gently. She is gazing at the comet with wonder in her eyes from her seat, and Rhaenne muses over what she is thinking of it.

"What is the point of this chatter of comets?" says Cersei in a slightly slurring voice. Rhaenne notes her the jug of wine closest to her is quite empty. "Rhaenne, you're a smart girl. Tell me what you think this 'fascinating sight' represents."

Rhaenne glances at the Queen. "Your Grace," she starts cautiously. "There is a girl who works in the kitchen, a girl who once was a wildling... and a superstitious one at that. She told me that comets don't fall for men. She said that comets only fall for magic."

Tommen's eyes are wide. "Magic?"

"Dragons," whispers Rhaenne.

"Dragons." The Queen rolls the word around like a sip of wine in her mouth. "Yes. The creatures that are not only your family's sigil, but what your House is famous for. The one thing that can burn anything and everything to the ground. Dragons in the realm again, is that what you want?"

Rhaenne refuses to take her eyes off Cersei, despite the petrifying sensation of her emerald eyes burning invisible holes in her dress. "If dragons are returning to the world," says Rhaenne with the composure of a lady at battle, "I cannot see anyone who could wake them, save another Targaryen. I would like to see my family."

"I asked you a question. What of the dragons themselves?"

"Dragonfire can melt any substance known to man, my Queen," says Rhaenne. "Take that as you may. It can melt any wall, any metal, any flesh."

_And when my sister comes riding atop a true dragon, waiting for me, it will melt you._

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A/N: Oh my, all the reviews! You all are beautiful. Even (especially) those who have favorited this story! I love you and keep up the good work :)

Next week or so I might throw in a little romance. I've got a bit of a plot twist thought out!


	4. Chapter 4

Rhaenne wonders why the Queen would wish to speak with her at such an late hour of the night. She delicately yawns and gazes out the window, where there is just a glimpse of starlight spilling over the sky. _I would warrant she is still intoxicated,_ thinks Rhaenne as one of the Kingsguard opens the door to the Queen's chamber. Cersei is prone to fits of spontaneity, Rhaenne has noticed.

"There you are," says Cersei before Rhaenne can scarce force the customary greeting off her lips. "Ward. You have flowered previously, yes?"

"Y-yes, Your Grace." Rhaenne feels her cheeks getting hot. "If it please you."

"It does not please _me."_ It appears that Rhaenne's suspicions are correct in wagering on the Queen's intoxication. Cersei taps her fingers on her table and continues, "I'm not asking out of my own abstract curiosity, ward. Do you want to be married?"

_Married_? Rhaenne ponders this. She knows that her noble House would wed, brother to sister, to keep the blood pure. _Of course, Daenerys is already wed to a savage, so no matter_. "I have not considered marriage yet, my Queen," she says honestly.

"Lucky you." Cersei sighs. "The Martells are traveling to King's Landing tomorrow to see Myrcella, and all the foolish council has been talking of shipping you off as well."

Rhaenne debates whether the Queen is drunk enough to permit her some information. "If it please my Queen, why must the small council get engaged in my personal life?"

"Forgive me for not wanting to share valuable information with a Targaryen of seven and ten. And as long as you are a ward under my command, it is neither _yours_ nor _personal_."

Rhaenne breathes in deeply._ I may be your ward, but I will never be under your command_.

Before she can stop herself, Rhaenne spits out, "My family was fond of incestous marriage, you have undoubtably heard. My House was in power, and i'll warrant they believed themselves above the law." She stares into the Queen's eyes. "Don't you just think that's horrid, my Queen? Isn't that filthy?"

The Queen grits her teeth so hard, it sounds like they may crack. "This digression has nothing to do with your marriage, ward."

"That is true. Incest affects other marriages, wouldn't you say? More powerful ones?"

Cersei slaps her.

It is but a single strike, yet the blood in Rhaenne Targaryen's veins has turned to fire. She has been spun to the side by the impact, and it takes all the power Rhaenne has not to kill the Queen right there. She clenches her fists by her side, breathing in and out slowly.

_Oh Daenerys, bring me strength_. It sickens her to wonder what Daenerys would do in this situation... no, Dany would never be a ward in the first place. I _am no dragon_, thinks Rhaenne, and she wants to weep.

"Forgive me, your Grace," Rhaenne says finally. Cersei looks a little frightened, possibly because Rhaenne has dealt the best card. There is a moment of silence where something unspoken passes between the two women - a sort of understanding, that Cersei will never slap her agaim as long as Rhaenne will never speak. "May I at least ask who I will be wedding?"

"We decided upon the Greyjoy boy," says Cersei quietly. "He is the Stark's ward."

Rhaenne wishes Tommen were here. He could certainly be making a face by now, imagining a dragon squid baby.

But she doesn't want to marry. She just doesn't. Rhaenne has no interest in any boys, no squids, no lions, nobody. Rhaenne hasn't felt positive feelings for a boy since she was young, and that was when beat was finished beating up a squire in the yard.

She wants to pursue the subject, but realizes it is time to take her leave. Rhaenne will not pity herself for long, for that is not what the strong dragons do. She excuses herself and numbly walks back to her chamber, but before she retires to her bed she changes her mind.

"Lady Sansa?" Rhaenne calls as she knocks on Sansa's door. "It's me, Rhaenne. May you bid me entrance?"

Sansa opens the door just a crack. "Lady Targaryen? Are you well?"

"Oh, I'm simply seeking companionship. And please call me Rhaenne. It is my name after all, and I fear that if I hear 'Lady' one more time, I may be prone to shattering one of the Queen's precious wineglasses."

The wolf smiles shyly. "Of course. _Rhaenne_." She lets her in, and Rhaenne takes this as an invitation to curl up on one of Sansa's chairs.

Her eyes flicker to one of Sansa's handmaidens, and clears her throat. "You're excused for the night," says Rhaenne - what she wants to say to Sansa is not for prying ears.

"The Queen told me to stay with Lady Stark," the handmaiden protests.

"Did she tell you to sleep with the stableboy, too?"

The handmaiden's cheeks turn bright red, and she scurries off as Rhaenne laughs. Sansa looks mildly delighted. "Do you need something, Rhaenne?" Sansa asks softly.

Rhaenne considers her words. She's been musing over this plan for what feels like ages, but she's not sure how to approach it. "Your ward was Theon Greyjoy, was he not? In Winterfell?"

Sansa is clearly surprised. "Yes," she replies slowly. "I didn't know him very well though, beg pardon."

"No pardons needed." Rhaenne smiles at her to prove she means to harm. "You see, I'm to be married to him."

"Married?" Sansa looks shocked, then swiftly her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, but Theon is - well, he likes -"

"I'm aware of the boy's reputation," sighs Rhaenne. "I merely wondered... if I went to visit him, as I'm sure I can persuade the Queen to let me, would you come with me?"

"She'll never let you," whispers Sansa.

Rhaenne grins. "I've thought this out, sweetling. He will undoubtably be around your brother, yes? I will tell her you want to see the Young Wolf, that it will show him that you are faring well, and there is no excuse for him to abuse the Kingslayer. I can even come back with a report on how her sweet brother is doing, all while I secure a good marriage with the squid boy."

Sansa pauses. She looks hopeful. "I can see Robb?" she whispers. "And my mother?"

"Um..." Rhaenne feels sick inside. "No, my dear, and I'm terribly sorry about that. But if you come with me, you will have the rest of your life to spend with your mother."

Her eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand. We're not to visit my mother?"

Rhaenne glances around the room. "If you come with me," she says softly, hoping upon hope that no one is still awake and listening in the Red Keep, "well, I can't tell you all yet, but I can say this: we will be free, Sansa. We will be free."

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**A/N**: Yep, the Martells are on their way! I had to put them in. And we might just meet Theon... well, that depends on whether Rhaenne's "plan" works :)

For all you reviewers, followers, and favoriters, I love you deeply!

As always, requests will /probably/ be answered.


	5. Chapter 5

"Please, mother? I beg you to reconsider."

Inside the room, Cersei is either braiding Myrcella's hair or drinking several more goblets of wine before the Martells arrive - Rhaenne knows that greeting a new House always goes the same, no matter what. She herself is standing by the crack in the door of Cersei's room, hoping Myrcella will manage to persuade her ever - stubborn mother to let Rhaenne see the great House Nymeros Martell.

"I told you," sighs Cersei, her voice muffled by the heavy door. "Rhaenne is a ward of this House. The Martells will find it inconsiderate to show a prisoner at a feast."

"She's not a prisoner!" cries Myrcella hotly. Rhaenne can see the girl in her mind's eye, with first her hands on her hips, then calming down and reverting to her princess's manners. "Beg pardon, mother. I only meant that Rhaenne is a great friend of mine and I really, truly wish she could - "

Tyrion waddles up to the door, nodding to Rhaenne distractedly. She appreciates him for not questioning her about lurking outside the Queen's door. "We've seen the Martells at the city gates, Cersei! If we don't hurry, they'll be at the Red Keep in minutes!"

The door is flung open, and the Queen all but flies out, one hand on Myrcella's sloppily braided head, the other on a goblet of wine._ So my suspicions were correct,_ Rhaenne thinks smugly. "Your Grace," she says with her lavender eyes lowered, "will you bid me permission to join Myrc-"

"Yes, yes, just hurry," says Cersei, who appears to be panicking. Myrcella grins at Rhaenne, and the older girl blows her a kiss.

In precisely five minutes, the Lannisters have lined up, like a truly functional House, at the gates of the Red Keep. Rhaenne holds the hand of Tommen, with Sansa lingering on her other side. King Joffrey, who has thankfully tired of being himself, is even with them, resplendent in a new gold doublet.

The Martells have finally emerged from their procession, and Trystane Martell is the first one out of the caravan. "Princess Myrcella!" he yells gleefully before the heralds can even announce the Martell's arrival.

"Prince Trystane," Myrcella replies, blushing and curtseying. "It is a gift from the gods that I can see you again."

_She seems quite infatuated with him_, thinks Rhaenne as she shares a look with Sansa. The Stark girl appears to be as enchanted with their little romance as Rhaenne is. Soon the rest of the Martells depart from the caravan, and she squints at the House.

"I present Prince Doran, Princess Arianne, and Prince Trystane of House Nymeros Martell," calls the herald.

Tommen huffs. "'Yenne, why isn't the Red Viper here? I thought we were going to see him today."

"Oh, my uncle isn't with us today," Trystane responds briefly after turning back to Myrcella. "I loved your sun - and - spear drawing, Princess," he says. "Look, I drew you a picture of your House's sigil too."

Tyrion blinks at the painting, which is crudely drawn_, to say the least._ "I was unaware our sigil is a golden - what the seven hells is that, anyway?"

Rhaenne smothers her smile with her hand as Tommen glowers at Trystane. "I believe it was meant to be a lion. Elsewise it is a well - drawn map of the Trident."

He huffs and leaves, his parting words something about needing more wine. Cersei looks over from her conversation with Prince Doran to the children. "Rhaenne," she says, voice clipped and shaky, "will you escort Princess Arianne to her chamber." It's not a question, and Rhaenne quickly takes the princess's satchel.

"Rhaenne Targaryen," says Arianne in response to her greeting. "We all heard you were still alive - you, Rhaegar's little sister. I dared not believe it, but look at you." Dreamily, the princess lifts a lock of Rhaenne's wavy silver hair. "You truly are one of those dragons, are you not?"

"Yes, my lad - um, my princess." Arianne Martell is as beautiful as the smallfolk say, with her lazy ringlets and bright eyes. Rhaenne feels that is has somehow become more difficult to speak with her about. They turn a corner, and almost hit Trystane as he runs with his hand in Myrcella. Arianne laughs softly as the children dart off.

"Ah," smiles the princess, "I overheard that Tommen has been let down by my uncle's absence?"

"Aye," Rhaenne agrees. "He does so love the legends of the Red Viper and the Sand Snakes."

Arianne grins. _She is so beautiful, like a shiny copper penny_. "Undoubtably. All the little boys of Dorne aspire to be him, with the poison spear and the lordship. Some jest that they worry the boys will acquire some of his other traits, saying that all the boys will grow up and bed other men." She laughs loudly, and Rhaenne joins her despite her mask of courtesy. "Not that the princeling will hear of _those_ tales, will he?"

"No, absolutely not," Rhaenne says briskly. The joy is leaking from her as she continues. "The maesters banish talk of... _that._ They say such topics will foul his mind and make him -" Rhaenne is suddenly aware of how tight her voice has grown, and she panics. Her eyes lower. "Beg forgiveness, my princess."

Arianne gazes at her. "No, my lady, _my_ forgiveness," she says quietly, but they come to Arianne's chamber and the moment is lost.

Rhaenne moves to leave, but Arianne catches her arm. "My lady," says Arianne as Rhaenne drops her satchel, "you should know that you are always welcome in Dorne. I believe it must be most troubling to stay locked up in such a place like this. There has been... tribulations between our Houses, but I do think one dragon can fix the mistakes the last has made."

_Always welcome in Dorne_. The promise of an alliance, no matter how small or fledgeling. Even the subtle hinting at her brother's past indiscretions seem friendly and gentle, and Rhaenne feels her heavy heart warm. "I appreciate your kind words," Rhaenne replies.

It comes to her suddenly, the final step in her plan, and Rhaenne's violet eyes flutter open. "Wait, my princess," she spouts before her idea is finalized in her mind, but Rhaenne's mind is racing. "I... the... what I was going to say, if it please you -"

Arianne is smiling coyly, almost as if she knows the plan. "Yes, my lady. You will always find a chamber in Sunspear, if you wish. No matter the _circumstance."_ She makes as though to leave, but stops with a cunning grin. "I'm sure I can even arrange a marriage, if you so desire. My cousin Tyene is unmarried."

"Tyene Sand?" Rhaenne hides her shocked look behind her hand.

She feels caught, but caught at _what?_ She isn't like the Red Viper, anyone can see that. Rhaenne doesn't want Arianne to be able to see the affliction so clearly, like it's a brand that she must wear. She's already separated from the others by being Targaryen, by being the ward, by simply being so different that it is unbearable to be herself.

Rhaenne has hidden this part of herself so deeply away, hoping the thoughts that plagued her once would go away. She has secretly drank all the maester's remedies so the lusting and wishes would stop. When it became clear a special tea would not change the troubling thoughts late at night, Rhaenne was left with no choice but to forget about any sort of love. It was harsh and depressing, but one thought of what people would think of her being _'like that_' was enough.

The only thing left is to deny it, so Rhaenne sputters out, "My princess, is your cousin not... um... female? I -"

"I come from Dorne, silly girl. Don't act so surprised that I can see these things," teases Arianne. "Oh, I'm not going to tell anyone. But do know this: Our land will not judge you. As I said, many things wait in Dorne, my lady. Safety, spicy food, endless care, quite a bit of sun. For you, the last dragon -" _She does not know my sister is alive. _"- we can also provide love. Acceptance. _Freedom."_

The princess closes the door, and Rhaenne is left out in the hall, feeling a little dazed. Everything that has just happened is making her a bit sick, but hopeful. The thought of a new life in Dorne, where she can be wherever she wants to be... it is overwhelming to a ward who has yet to see herself become a dragon. But with this, the plan is finished, and no matter how ready Rhaenne is, she now knows exactly how to escape King's Landing with Sansa.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites! Y'all are just so perfect and I wish I could kiss you each and every one of you.

Yay for the Martells, and yay for awkward coming-outings! I was too afraid to put Oberyn in because I'm pretty sure I would mess him up. Of course I have to put in at least three of my big GoT crushes (Arianne, Tyene, and of course Sansa. I don't think I can put in Asha, sadly).

Please write and tell me if I did anything wrong.

To all those asking, we won't see much of Theon very soon. But we'll see Daenerys in the next update!


	6. Chapter 6

"Daenerys?" whispers Rhaenne.

She is lying on her side. It is near midnight, when Rhaenne last managed to see her sister. Rhaenne closes her eyes, wanting so badly to be able to feel her sister again.

With Arianne and the other Martells here, Rhaenne should not feel as lonely as she does now. But today had just been unbearable after Arianne's realization in the corridor, and even the children had left her. Myrcella, of course, has been off with Trystane, and Tommen was surprisingly taken with Prince Doran. Even Sansa was ignoring her, and that hurt most of all. Rhaenne does not know why the Stark girl, a girl she had briefly thought on as a friend, would leave her. Mayhaps it had been because of the plan that involved Sansa never seeing her family, but from the girl's frightened silence, Rhaenne fears it might be more. I will be sure to ask her on the morrow.

"Daenerys, please. Can you hear me?" She feels most foolish, whispering words into empty air. "It is your sister, Rhaenne. Daenerys, can you hear me? Can you answer? _Please_?"

Tears begin to slip out of Rhaenne's lavender eyes, and she gazes forlornly out her window. The sky is as black as polished jet, save for the stars and that one bloody red comet.

_The comet._As soon as her eyes land on it, Rhaenne begins to sense a curious feeling in her chest, like her stomach is tightening as her heart expands. The image of the comet swells in her eyes, and then her eyes are squeezed shut and Rhaenne is gone.

When she opens her eyes again, she does not see the insides of her chamber, but rather the interior of a crudely made tent. Several women, two with copper skin and one with blonde hair, sleep next to her, and with all the strength she has in this new body, Rhaenne pushes herself out of the tent. The sky, which is as dark and glittering as it was when she looked out from the Red Keep, spreads out above her. _Still the same desert as in the last vision_. She feels violently thirsty, and when Rhaenne runs her tongue over her lips, her mouth is dry and her skin burnt.

"Daenerys?"

Rhaenne feels a small part of her body speak the words, the part back in King's Landing, but her cracked lips do not move. There is a slight pause, and then a voice pours out of her still mouth.

"Is that you? Rhaenne?"

"Daenerys," she replies, feeling joyous. Happiness spreads through her entire body, and it is almost as though she is truly with her sister, next to her and everything. Inhabiting her body is a... different way to speak to Daenerys, but soon I can truly be with her.

"Rhaenne," gasps Daenerys, and Rhaenne hears a hitch in the voice pouring out of her mouth. "Finally, you can respond - oh, sweet sister -"

"Wait," Rhanne interrupts, even though all she wants to do is listen to her sister's voice. "How do you know it's me? And what do you mean, respond?"

Daenerys pauses. "When you were sleeping," she starts, "I was able to contact you - not awaken you, lest someone overheard, but I tried to speak through you."

"Oh," replies Rhaenne, and then her eyes begin to weep quiet tears of joy. She is unsure whether it is her or Daenerys is crying. "How... how are you faring? Are you safe? And honestly, where are you?"

There is a slight laugh. "I've missed you too, sister." Rhaenne hears a sniff, and decides it must be her that is crying. "I appear to be in King's Landing, myself. As to where you are... You are in what my Dothraki call the 'Red Waste.' And no... we are not quite safe. Not until we find water and shelter."

After another silence, Rhaenne speaks up. "You avoided my first question." She recalls a rumor she overheard when she was spying on a council meeting. "Were you not pregnant, Dany? Did you truly kill Viserys? You are my sister, and I need to know these things."

"My child is dead," Daenerys says bluntly, sorrowfully, and it saddens Rhaenne's heart. "My dragons are my true children. I... I can not bear living children."

_Is that such a horrible thing? You are four and ten._But Rhaenne keeps her words to herself, and offers, "And what of our brother?"

"Viserys..." Daenerys trails off. "He... I... It wasn't me, Rhaenne, truly. He threatened me, he tried to kill me. My _khalasar_did it, not me, they..." She gasps a little, and Rhaenne can hear tears. "They poured boiling gold on his head, they did, and I couldn't stop them. I want to take it back now, but... He wasn't a good brother to me."

_Boiling gold_. Rhaenne feels desperately sick.

"He said awful things, terrifying things," continues Daenerys madly, "he was going to kill my child."

Rhaenne wants to stop talking to her, but tells herself that she is now the last dragon. "I don't want to talk about this to you, Dany. Please, will you let me sleep?"

Daenerys is crying, and Rhaenne feels bad for deserting her, but it is too much for her to handle. "I want to be sorry," whispers Daenerys, "but I can't be, and I don't know why. Rhaenne, I just want to go home, I do."

"I am sorry for that." Rhaenne is about to say something in reply, but then Dany starts talking fast. "Rhaenne, wait, I can hear someone coming to your chamber. We have to stop, and I will speak to you later, is that all right?"

"How do I leave?"

"Look at the comet," Dany blurts out, "and I love you and -"

But Rhaenne before can respond, both their eyes are flickering to the sky, and when she sees the comet, the Red Waste vanishes. She is lying on her bed in her chamber at the Red Keep, and now she can hear someone knocking on her door. "Is there someone in there with you?" growls a voice, probably one of the Kingsguard.

Rhaenne dismisses them. When they leave, she lets out the air in her chest. _I have spoken to my sister, I have made contact with her. Two of the heads of the dragon are united, and we can finally take this wretched world and set it ablaze and _-

She has to stop herself again. _No. Not yet. One of the heads of the dragon is not with us._

_But who is it? And how can we speak to it?_

_And what will become of me in the meantime?_

* * *

A/N: Well... this was a bit of a filler chapter. But I hope you liked it.

To my lovely guest reviewer: I pronounce Rhaenne like "Ray - ehn." It's really just a play off Rhaella, her mother's. But I have a Midwestern accent, so you might pronounce it a different way.

_Beaucoup d'amour_ to my readers, reviewers, followers, and favorite-ers!


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